Once Again
by Manicies
Summary: Loki had thought things couldn't get any worse for him - his army was destroyed, his master plan had failed, and he was probably about to get an arrow through the eye. Until, at least, he decides it's a good idea to try and waste all of his magic in a far-fetched escape attempt. Needless to say, it fails. Loki is changed into a child and the Avengers have to look after him.
1. Chapter 1

Loki backed away slowly, heart pounding like the war drums, his boots making little sound as he cautiously tread as if on thin ice. Glancing around out of the corner of his eyes, even now, he saw no means to escape. Hands twitching, he felt his chest heaving against the firm, tight leather he preferred to encase himself in. Loki's shimmering crystal blue eyes brimmed against his will as his gaze flicked around, practically desperate.

The God blinked in shock as his back humped into the solid wall, leather jacket fluttering a little at the sudden movement, before a low, hissed curse escaped his lips.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

By this time, he should've been a ruler, the king of Midgard. The masses should fall to their knees, worshipping the very ground he strode upon! And furthermore, those thrice damned Avengers should have been torn to shreds by his so-called 'army'. What sort of assembly can call itself an army, when it falls so easily when their mother-ship is destroyed?!

Instead, he was trapped, left with no options, with a rather distinct arrow nocked only inches from his eye. And with his sceptre, the Mind Gem, clasped firmly in the hands of Natasha Romanov, there was almost nothing he could do but surrender.

Two options here, neither of which particularly appealed to the Asgardian. Dragged back to his homeland, the realm of gold and Gods alike, weighed down by cursed, binding chains, a criminal, a _monster_; or hunted down by the very gods-forsaken creature who had tortured him, twisted him to his own ends, who threatened a life even worse than death if he failed, which he had very likely just accomplished.

_What a delightful turn of events I've placed myself in,_ He thought to himself, bitterly.

"BROTHER!" Came the room shaking bellow, the ferocious voice coming from none other than Thor, the famed God of Thunder. The tall, hulking man stared furiously at the trapped Trickster, raising his mighty weapon, Mjolnir, in a threatening show of dominance.

"You know as well as I that there is no escape for you! Surrender now!" The blonde growled at him in his booming voice, still louder than what would normally constitute as a room shaking yell. His stormy blue eyes locked with Loki's panicked, crystal ones.

Unfortunately, Loki could naught but agree.

The God's body hurt like nothing else which, all things considered, was not surprising, what with everything the poor man had been through. He unconsciously cringed, a grimace of sealed pain spreading across his taut face, as he bumped into the wall again; he was almost certain that something had broken. A rib, or three, perhaps.

And if this wasn't bad enough, he had pathetically little magic. Even a quick test, the blue crackling between his fingers before fizzing out, the chill of his Seidr unabashedly absent from his thin form. In fact, he had so little left that, were he to make the moronic attempt to cast even the most basic of spells, he was sure that it would have nothing but disastrous effects on his body and any surroundings.

Loki felt like a rat; trapped, cornered by beings who had nothing but ill will towards him, no chance for escape.

It was not an entirely pleasant feeling, he could admit that to himself.

Knowing that he was out of options, grasping at straws, as the Midgardian saying goes, he fell back on his last resort. Loki coiled his fingers behind his back as he back to hiss out an incantation in an ancient language he know only Thor would be able to comprehend, magic once again crackling in his hands. This time, he forced it to remain, not allowed it to fizzle away; he needed no reminders as to how foolish this attempt was. In fact, he was almost certain the consequences would be dire, and there was a pathetically slim chance of escaping this place unscathed (any further), but he knew that his other options were less than appealing. He could never allow himself to be forced back to Asgard, as a criminal, to face the disappointment of his ex-family, and the disgust and contempt of the people he had once ruled.

Feeling the last of his magic surge through him towards his hands, leaving him feeling strangely empty, Loki thrust his hands out in front of him, the thrice-damned Avengers jumping back, bracing themselves for what was to be thought a mighty blast of magic capable of felling hundreds, destroying anything in close range.

That's what it was supposed to do, at least.

Because nothing happened.

Loki's eyes widened as he stared at his hands, the familiar, ethereal green glow faded from where it had built up, leaving him gazing at his pale, trembling hands. It hadn't worked. Not even the tiniest poof. He'd had hopes of at least disorienting the Avengers with a blast, enough to distract them as he fled, but aside from creating an interesting glow, his magic had gone entirely to waste.

Without warning, a hot slash of fiery pain licked up along Loki's spine, a heated chill passing through him, and his knees buckled, his body collapsing heavily to the ground as a hoarse cry escaped his lips. His cries grew only louder as the agony spread out, ripping through him, and the Avengers jumped back, all of them practically frozen in shock, an expression akin to a deer in headlights crossing all their faces.

"What the hell?!" Clint, the archer, managed to yelp out, staggering back and dropping his prized bow to the shattered tiles with a harsh clatter.

Thor cussed in a language unfamiliar to the humans, dropped Mjolnir with a loud thud before shoving everyone aside to crouch beside his brother's twisting and contorting form.

"He has used too much magic. His body is ceasing to function!" He just continued to stare, thick brows furrowed in intense concern, before he blinked and looked up at the still-motionless Avengers. "Well? Call for a healer at once!" He boomed, the sound seeming to jolt the Midgardians out of their dazed stupor.

There was no hesitation from there on. Enemy or not, no one wanted to have the death of a God, a Royal God, brother of one of their own allies, on their hands. Not in such horrific circumstances. Natasha bolted out of the room, only visible as a blue and red streak, Clint streaking after her in blacks and purples, and Tony yanked his face-mask off, the only thing he managed to yell at Jarvis that wasn't smothered by Loki's screams was, 'And get an ambulance or something!'

After what seemed like agonising hours, the God of Mischief's writhing form suddenly stilled, his screeches cutting off with a choked gurgle, and everything went silent, save for Loki's haggard, gasping breaths. The God himself was noticeably paler, practically green even, giving him an air of being incredibly, irreparably ill. His thin hands were clenched into fists so tight, his nails had dug into his palms, glittering blood dripping lamely from his white flesh.

And suddenly, something began to happen. Something so strange that everyone who remained could do nothing but gape.

After a long, disgustingly long time, Natasha ran back into the shattered, ruined room, Clint and a medical team following after her, laiden down with heavy equipment.

"Has anything hap-" She started, cutting herself off with wide eyes as she stared down at the crumpled pile of leather where Loki lay.

Clint pushed through the crowd up to stand at her side, glancing at her before turning to the strange sight before them "Wha-" And he froze. "...Sweet mother of FUCK."


	2. Chapter 2

Loki awoke slowly, his emerald green eyes flicking open to gaze at the world around him.

His entire body seemed to ache horribly, pain tingling numbly through his limbs, and if he didn't know better, he'd believe the taste in his mouth was that of blood. Though he supposed it would accurately correspond with his sore body.

The God flipped his pillow over to the other, cooler side, but as he did so, he winced a little at the movement jarred his stiff arms.

Loki had no idea what he'd managed to do to himself this time. iWhat have I done now?/i He wondered idly, a huffing breath escaping him through his nose. He was well aware that he had a tendency to get himself into copious amounts of mischief and trouble, and to count every instance of such could be considered an impossible feat. But usually, he didn't tend to break every bone in his body, and especially not with no recollection of such. At least, that is how it seemed to feel to him.

The little god remained lost in pained thought when suddenly, the room was filled with, practically, blinding light. He recoiled, grumbling a little as he pulled the blanket up to attempt to shield his eyes from it, and barely managed to tilt before he felt his ribs seemingly screech at him in agony.

"Oh well, would you look at that? The little wannabe-prince has finally woken up." An unfamiliar voice drawled out, practically dripping with sheer sarcasm and snark. Another voice grunted in affirmation, deeper and with less of a sassy undertone to it than the first one.

Letting out a soft, huffing groan, Loki tried to bury further under the sheets, but he let out a rather undignified yelp as the blanket was ripped off of him, revealing a man who was glaring down at him in rather an unkind manner.

"Look here, you little son of a bitch." He growled, brown eyes glinting with anger. "I don't care what you look like or how old you're pretending to be, but I swear to God I am going to beat the crap out of you if you don't tell me why you look like a six year old."

Loki recoiled, green eyes wide in fright as he stared at the angry man. Who was he? Father had quite often warned him of those who would dare to kidnap and try to hurt both himself and Thor, but he never once thought that it would actually possibly happen. He felt the cold sting of fear creeping around in his chest, coiling around his heart insidiously.

"...I-I..I don't understand..." The little god managed to stammer out, staring up at them.

The two men glanced at each other, the angry one taking a step back from the bed as he folded his arms over his chest.

"He...sounds scared, Tony. I never thought I would say this, but Loki actually sounds genuinely afraid of you." The taller one said, flicking back a lock of short, golden blonde hair. The one called Tony huffed, rubbing the stubble on his jaw with a harsh, calloused hand.

"He also just happens to be the God of all lies and douche-baggishness. He's not called the trickster for nothing, Cap." Tony snapped, glancing between the two. After a few moments, he leant back over to Loki, ignoring how he recoiled, and grabbed his thin shoulder, shaking him harshly.

"Look brat, you have five seconds to tell me, or else-"

But he was cut off by Loki bursting into tears.

Tony recoiled as if he had been shot, eyes wide in shock as the little God began to sob, clutching at the blanket tightly.

"H-How d-dare you threaten an O-Odinson like this!" He managed to gasp out between the sobs wracking his form. "M-My father w-will not be pleased!"

"...Well...shit." Tony slowly huffed, still staring at the crying child.

After a few moments, the taller, calmer one, (Loki thought his name was Cap, if he recalled), leant forward, reaching out with a thick hand, but he recoiled it when Loki shot him a wet, sniffling glare that probably wouldn't have even frightened an ant.

"Loki...do you even...recognise us?" He said slowly, trying to avoid provoking the child even further, baby blue eyes shadowed by his brows, furrowed in confusion and concern.

Loki sniffed messily, and stared up at the two men, with a look of distaste that could be recognised on the God's face no matter what age he was, and he debated whether or not to answer them. Finally, after a few minutes, he thought it best to, considering his life now lay in the hands of men who were easily three times his size, and he took a deep, shaky breath.

"No..." He sniffled, staring up at them miserably, and they blinked in shock. "Who ARE you?"

Hi! Mani again! Hello! I got such an overwhelming amount of people who liked this (if it's over ten, that's too much!) so I decided to continue! I didn't get the chance to write anything about it previously, but unfortunately nothing belongs to me. NOOTTHHIINNNGGG. Not the story nor the characters. Though I would be a very happy chappy if either of them did. No, this is just a re-write of the fic by the same name by Ibrielle on dA. I'm almost certain she's also uploaded it here. Not sure. Anyway, I totally have permission for this!


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